


Killer Love

by Perfectly_Psychotic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Violence, Castiel is Not Okay, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Implied Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Sam Winchester Has Issues, Serial Killer Castiel, Serial Killer Dean Winchester, Serial Killer Sam Winchester, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-04-24 02:06:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14345682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perfectly_Psychotic/pseuds/Perfectly_Psychotic
Summary: It all started with a news story; how two killers had emerged from the shadows of their dark worlds to enact thier vengence on far from innocent and unsuspecting souls.This is the tale of how two broken people made their way through the news stories in a silent competition to see who could out-kill the other until they could off each other, and instead found thier way into love.





	1. Fairly Local

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Let me start out by saying that I am pleased you have chosen to ready my twisted and frankly messed up story. I hope it doesn't give you psychological issues.  
> Second, this is my first story on the site, and my first official SPN fic, so...have mercy? I would appreciate contructive criticism though; emphasis on contructive.  
> Hope you enjoy, and I hope it's not too scarring.
> 
> *WARNING*: Possible triggering material in this chapter, though I'm not sure exactly how or what to lable it(sorry).
> 
> Disclaimer: As much as I would love to, I don't own Supernatural or The CW. The only things that are (sort of) mine are the methods of death.  
> The story title is (somewhat) original, and the chapter title is Fairly Local by Twenty Øne Piløts.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> P.S.: Chapter titles are subject to change, just FYI

Dean Winchester woke up with a clear mind and an anxious heart. Today was the day, March 4- he had been planning it for weeks-the day he would blow up the Lawrence Dale Mall in Kansas. He never knew why he had decided he would, the idea had just hit him one day while at Bobby's car shop, where he worked. He guessed it was because he was upset with a group of teenagers he had encountered at the mall just a few weeks before. No, scratch that, he wasn't just upset or even angry, he was livid. He was sick and tired of how people had treated him his whole life, and it struck him that one way to teach everyone a lesson would be to blow up the mall. He realized it was a bit extreme, but he was willing to dive all in, head first, into the vast world of criminal activity.  
Little did he know then just how much of an obsession his love for taking life would become.

Castiel Novak woke up on Saturday, March 4, with much the same mindset as his yet unknown competetor. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed to look out through the tiny window of his door at the blank, solid white wall across the hall from his solitary confinement room. He was quite familiar with this room; after all, this was the third time just this month that he had been confined inside it's walls. Although, at least this time he was without the five point restraints. He looked around absently, an array of fumbled thoughts floating around in his head. In truth, he wasn't really thinking of anthing at all. His mind was a little too jumbled to really ever make sense out of his brain's ramblings. The lock clicking on the door drew his attention as a different than normal but still familiar nurse, Julia Fickle, came in carrying his trey of food, containing on it his preferred meal. He gave her a bright smile (bright in his head- to her, it looked more like the smile of a psycho serial killer; if only she had known at the time how accurate that comparison was) and waved. "Hello Nurse Fickle." She gave him a polite smile. "What happened to Maria?" Her smile dropped and she stepped back to position herself in a place of quick door access before answering. "As much as I opted to not give you any information, Doctor Williams said to answer any questions you might have." Castiel smiled in delight, as if he was a small child having just heard great news about recieving his favorite toy, and  Julia's face took on an look of unease. "After your attack on her yesterday-"  
"It was not an attack, I was simply conducting an expirement." Castiel interrupted to clarify, and Julia nodded.  
"Of course," she continued, "After your- expirement on her last night, she was admitted to the hospital with minor rib fractures, a back contusion, damaged nerve endings in her fingertips, and several burst capillaries in her eyes." Castiel looked quite intruiged by the diagnosis.  
"Interesting..." He mumbled and Julia, her curiosity getting the better of her, leaned forward slightly.  
"What is?"  
"Well, the way I compressed her fingers should have at least fractured the tips of the falanges as well..." He suddenly shrugged with a very final and uninterested sounding 'hm' and started looking around again. Julia's face had now had taken on an expression of even more unease and she started to scoot closer to the door.  
"Any other questions, Castiel?" He very suddenly jerked his head to make direct eye contact with her and her eyes went slightly wide.  
"Yes, actually; what does your blood taste like?" Julia's stomach dropped and she took a shaky breath.  
"You know, I really couldn't tell you." She let out a nervous laugh. "Never thought to try it before." Castiel tilted his head from side to side like a dog, regarding her with a wild look in his eyes.  
"Well I have." He looked away for a short moment to glance at his mattress, and then reached out to grab a long, silver object. When he looked back at her and held up the long, thin, shiny clean knife, Julia's face went pale and her hand slowly crept behind her back to grip the door handle. It was then she realized that, in her inital sense of partial security, she had locked the door behind her and had no quick way out without turning her back to unlock the door, and there was no way that was happening today. Castiel stood and stalked towards her, looking the knife up and down with facination.  
"The anatomy of a human is so...facinating, wouldn't you agree?" His eyes shot up to meet her's and he grinned. "For instance, all it takes to kill someone within seconds is to-" He abruptly stopped as he took a swift step towards her and pinned her against the wall, the thin, razor sharp blade resting cold and light on her throat. He then continued in a hushed whisper, his barely contained facination making his eyes jump around her face wildly. "-cut cleanly through the carotid arteries on either side of the neck." He lightly dragged the blade over each one and Julia wimpered. Castiel brought a hand up to gently caress her face, making soothing noises. "It's ok, Julia. I'm not going to kill you; just bleed you to the point of near death." She sobbed and tears started streaming down her face. "Shh...it's ok." He moved his hand from the side of her face to cover her mouth completely while he repositioned his hand on the knife. "Do you know why I'm here?" She shook her head slightly and Cas grinned. "Well, I killed people. They told me I was convicted of killing 42 people, but," at this point he giggled and lowered his voice to a whisper, "I never told them it was closer to 150." A muffled sob came from behind the hand covering Julia's mouth, and Cas frowned at the clear liquid seeping through his fingers. "Now, just be quiet-you'll only be concious for a few more seconds anyway." At this point she began to struggle and Castiel had no choice but to quickly slice a thin, straight line from one side of her neck to the other, effectively ending her struggle and perminently rendering her muffled shouts a lost cause. She gasped and gargled for breath and Castiel stepped back to watch with undivided attention and interest. When she had finally lost conciousness and slid down the wall to the floor, he stepped over and knelt next to her, dragging a finger through the stream of blood seeping down her neck. He watched the thick liquid run down his finger before bringing it up to his mouth and licking it off. "Hm. Copper." He looked down at her. "I might have lied about letting you live, because now it really depends on how fast they get you help." With that he stood, used her key to open the door, and pulled the ward's emergecy lever outside in the hallway (that had been installed because of him, actually) in order to alert security. He knew that if they were as fast as he expected them to be, they would find Julia in enough time to get her to a hospital; but not before he used her card to get out of the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're liking it so far!
> 
> So, here's my plan:  
> I already have the first 8 chapters written, but I'm gonna post them a week at a time to give me time to keep writing more and to give a little suspense.  
> Currently, I thought I would shoot for Sunday or Monday nights, but knowing my schedule and my brain, I'll probably forget a few times. In that event, I will simply upload on a later day.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it, and I look forward to seeing you next chapter!
> 
> Now, I gotta go get me some pie.


	2. Monsters Stuck      In Your Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean carries out his plan; Cas sees Dean for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again. Glad you're back for more. Hope you enjoy, and feedback is appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I sadly do not own Supernatural, The CW, or the title of the chapter, which are lyrics from the song Monsters by Ruelle.
> 
> Also, I have a Youtube playlist that contains my favorite 'psycho' songs if you wanna go listen to that. It includes Fairly Local and Monsters, btw, along with songs that most of my chapter titles will be pulled from. Here's the link:  
> https://m.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLX7RxYgII-iJp1h_PoZEvcOAeloxDKVml  
> I suggest you listen with headphones or earbuds. It's so much better, and you get the feel of the music a lot more.
> 
> Now, I'll leave you alone to read. Enjoy!

Dean prepared for his plan with nervous excitement, loading up his car with guns as back-up in case someone caught him planting the explosives. He put on his favorite leather jacket and smirked as he closed the trunk, two packed bags and a few days worth of beer and snacks in the back seat. He already knew that he was not going to be doing this anonymously; he wanted the world to see his face. Thus he had planned to run and live on the backroads afterwards, maybe taunting the police a little with letters or random bodies.  
He climbed into his beautiful '67 Chevy Impala and took a deep breath, a smile starting to spread across his face. This was shaping up to be a whole lot more fun than he had anticipated.

Once at the mall, Dean climbed out and looked around. Noticing the lack of more people, he frowned and pulled the backpack of explosives out of the trunk, tucking two submachine guns into the insides of his jacket. He would find a way to bring a lot of people. Even if those people were cops, he would find a way. He had been planning this for weeks; he wasn't about to let a little thing like not enough people ruin it now. As he walked to the nearest enterance, Dean went over everything in his head, from start to finish. He knew every single drop, back-up plan, and escape route by heart. He knew that no matter what, he would get what he wanted and get out alive. He had even called a friend to move his car around back while he was inside so that he could run with the Impala-he loved that car to no end. Of course, this friend had no clue whatsoever as to why, but 500 dollars from Dean's pocket had been explaination enough.

He entered the mall and was immediately being watched by a security guard. If these had been different circumstances, then Dean would have been screwed. But, he had already gone to plan B, and being noticed and hopefully followed by the security guard would be a good thing. He began to walk towards his first drop-off location for one of the four bombs he had made and was satisfied that the security guard was indeed following him. When he reached the spot, Dean quickly ducked into the store it was to be placed in and shoved the bomb into the middle of a huge pile of clothes. Stepping back out casually a moment later, the now flustered security guard picked up his pace to follow Dean a little closer. After dropping the next two in the same fashion, the security guard decided to radio in for back-up.   
Dean quickly made the last drop and was ready to carry out the second part of his plan.   
He had comissioned a 'friend' of sorts to hack into the Mall's security system and lock down the building on his command, and Dean figured now was a good time. Pulling out his phone, he dialed the secure number.  
"Dean, hey. Is it time?"  
"Yeah, Benny. Let's do it." Dean hung up and waited for 30 seconds, standing in the very center of the mall. Since arriving to make the drops, there had been an increase in people and Dean smirked. Turning to look at the small group of security guards that had gathered around a nearby support beam, he waited until they were all looking at him to wink.

And then the shooting started.

He pulled out both his guns criss-cross style and began to shoot with trained precision into the crowd. People screamed and the security guards lunged for him, only to be shot down. Dean stopped shooting after a while and waited for the screams to stop. When it was almost completely silent, save for the whimpers of those still alive and injured, Dean walked around to assess the damage and round up the people still alive. Once he had gotten at least the people he could find all into the center eating area, Dean got up on a table and raised the gun to fire a round into the ceiling.  
"Good afternoon, Lawrence Dale Mall!" He yelled, grinning and revelling in the way his voice echoed in the near silence. The people before him cowered on the floor in fear, some of them trying to look discreet as they attempted to call 911. Pointing one of his guns at a young woman in the front who was trying to do just that, Dean squatted down on the table to get closer to her, a soft smile on his face. Her face going white, she started to put her phone away. "No- keep it out." She slowly took it back out and held it in her shaking hands. "Were you trying to contact the police?" She shook her head and his smile instantly dropped. "Don't lie to me," He growled, and she quickly switched to nodding her head. His smile back, he stood back up, watching her. "Well then, don't stop on my account." He gestured to her phone with the gun. "Do you want to call them?" She nodded and he gave a curt nod back. "Then please do." He looked away from her then to scan the crowd. "In fact, why don't you all? The bigger the party the better, right?" Unsure as to what he was trying to do, the people hesitated, not a single one of them trying to call 911. This agitated Dean, and with a dark look at the crowd he slipped the sub in his left hand under his right arm before pulling out his pearl handled colt and shooting the young woman he had been talking to right between the eyes. Her friends and several women in the crowd screamed and gasped, beginning to cry even more.  
"If you want to live through today, then I suggest you CALL. THE. POLICE!" He practically screamed the last three words, putting emphasis on each one, and those with thier phones immediately began to dial and shakily tell the 911 operators what was happening. He smirked, knowing full well that thier false hope of staying alive was just that: false. He had no intention of letting any of them live. In fact, he probably wouldn't even wait for the bomb to kill them; before he left, he would just shoot them all himself.

Castiel had managed to get almost a half-state away from the psych hospital where he had 'lived' in Napa County, California before the police had even gotten an APB out on him. He was now currently sitting in a moderately comfortable motel room in the lovely city of Tanopah, Navada. He had paid for it with some of the several hundered dollars Nurse Fickle had in the glovebox of her car, presumably for emergency situations. Unsure of what to do, having been in the hospital for 2 years serving out three life sentences, Castiel just sat on the end of one of the beds looking around with no paticular thought proccess. He admired the way the bed and sheets beneath him felt; he hadn't slept in a comfortable bed for a very long time. He hadn't actually slept at all for weeks, in reality.   
Soon becoming wary and bored of the silence, Castiel reached forward to pick up what he vaugely remembered to be a TV remote and pressed what he guessed was the power button. It was. The flat screen TV flashed to life in front of him, still on whatever channel the guest before him had choosen to watch. It just so happened to be the nightly NVTV news; and they just so happened to be live broadcasting the current hostage/bomb threat situation in a certain Kansas mall.  
_"The suspect is a man known to many of the locals as Dean Winchester, son of the late John and Mary Winchester; Mary died when Dean was 5, and John commited suicide 5½ years later after beating Dean almost to death."_ They flashed a picture of Dean Winchester onto the screen and Castiel took a sharp breath in. The man was beautiful, and exactly his type when it came to selecting his next kill. Now completely honed in on the story and paying full attention, Castiel scooted forward on the bed and kept his eyes glued to the screen. _"At 10:34 this morning, he entered the Mall with a medium sized duffle bag, catching the attention of a security guard near the door. That security guard was then later able to radio in a possible bomb threat before Dean Winchester opened fire inside the mall. So far, there is no definitive answer on how many are dead or alive, but thanks to the security tapes we can confirm he has a number of hostages."_ They switched from the live camera footage of the police outside the mall to a live stream of the inside cameras. Dean was still standing on the long table, walking back and forth and very carefully watching the tired group of people on the floor in front of him. Movement in the right corner of the screen caught Castiel's eye and he watched with interest as a man who had apparently avoided being rounded up at the beginning tried to come up behind Dean. Without even looking, Dean swung a hand back and shot the man clean through the heart. Castiel grinned in delight; he was quite liking this beautiful man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the second installment of my story! And I want you to know that waiting a week to add another chapter was probably as agonizing for me as it was for you.
> 
> With that, I shall bid you adieu. Stay beautiful, my darlings.


	3. So What If I'm            Crazy?(The Best People Are)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes his escape; Cas finds a new obsession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to another installation of messed up, provided by yours truely. (Sometimes I think I seriously need help.) Anywho, hope you enjoy!
> 
> FYI, you might want to review the last paragraph or so of Ch. 2, just in case you forgot what the situation is at the start of this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: I sadly don't own Supernatural or any of it's characters, but I do own this particular brand of crazy. Also, the title is from Mad Hatter by Melanie Martinez.
> 
> *WARNING: This chapter includes the killing of women and children, and while not gory or detailed, it may be too intense for some. You have been warned.*

Dean grinned as a few in the crowd started to cry again after he shot the failure of a hero. A few minutes later, his phone rang and he answered it warily.  
"Yeah?"  
"Hey, Dean. The police are about to come in, you better get out." Benny said, having agreed to watch the news for him and keep him updated on the outside situation.  
"Ok, thanks Benny. My door has been unlocked, right?"  
"Sure has, Dean. Good luck, buddy." Dean gave a small smile to the camera over his shoulder and hung up. Turning back to the group, he took a deep breath.  
"Well, as much as I've loved the time we've spent together, it's time for me to go." Many of them relaxed and Dean smirked. "So, unfortunately, I have to kill you all now."  
"No!" A woman wailed in the back, and Dean's eyes drifted to see her arms wrapped around the only children in the room; her children. Next to her a man looking to be about Dean's age, maybe a few years younger, wrapped an arm around her to comfort her. This wasn't the first time Dean had noticed the man either; he had first taken notice of him when he rounded all the people up.  
"Hey, you," he motioned with his gun to the man and he looked up at Dean with a calm expression. "Come here." Without hesitating, the man stood, impressively tall, and made his way to Dean. "That your family?" He asked and the man studied his face.  
"Are you going to kill them either way?" Dean shrugged.  
"Yeah." The man nodded and glanced back at them with a slightly downcast expression.  
"Then no. I came by myself today." Dean nodded and motioned beside him.  
"Stand over here and do exactly as I say." The man complied and Dean made sure to keep some of his attention on him as he turned back to the crowd. "Well, now that that's out of the way," Dean looked up briefly to smirk at a camera before raising his guns and pointing them at the heart of the crowd. "Pray I don't see you in Hell some day," He remarked before pulling the triggers and quickly wiping out the entire group. Once he was sure they were all dead, Dean looked at the man still standing next to the table to see him watching the scene with a small smirk, his eyes showing his internal turmoil between wanting to like it and wanting to despise it. That got Dean's attention. "So, what's your name?" The man looked up with a passive expression, but Dean could still see the emotional battle behind his eyes. Dean had always been good at that: reading people; and he found Sam's struggle intriguing.  
"My name is Sam." Dean smiled and nodded.  
"Well, Sammy-"  
"Don't call me that." He spit out gruffly and Dean's smile dropped as he gave him a death glare.  
"I'll call you whatever I want, Sammy." He drew out Sam's name so that it sounded like a hissing snake and a little bit of Sam's anger at the nickname faded in favor of continuing to be kept alive. Dean's smile slowly came back and he motioned for Sam to start walking in front of him. "You should be thankful, Sam. I hadn't planned on keeping anyone alive today; you got lucky." Sam scoffed and sent a small glare back at Dean.  
"Great. I get to be held hostage by a murdering psychopath." Dean could hear the sarcasm and hidden terror in Sam's voice and instead of being upset at the obvious insult he grinned.  
"See? I knew I'd like you. Plus, you can't deny the glint I saw in your eyes wathing me shoot those people. You may not want to, Sammy, but you have a little psycho in ya too." Sam rolled his eyes in a flare of anger and fear at being discovered, but kept walking, the knowlege that Dean had a gun against his back keeping him from trying anything. When they reached an exit door at the end of a bathroom hall, a shatter of glass came from close-by.  
"Dean Winchester, lay down your firearms and put your hands above your head!" A voice echoed through the empty mall, probably the SWAT team leader.  
"Oops. Looks like they just missed me." Dean said as he pushed Sam through the door to find his car waiting as promised. "Ah, Baby! You made it." Sam looked at Dean warily.  
"You named your car?" He asked, incredulous, and Dean gave him a serious look.  
"If you don't wanna end up with multiple bullets in your body, I would treat Baby with respect." Dean looked down to gently run his hand down the hood of his Impala. "Now, normally I would lay out some ground rules, but since we're in a bit of a time crunch, I'll just have to go over them later." He motioned with a gun to the passenger side of the car. "Get in." Sam clenched his jaw, but obeyed, going around to climb in. Dean followed and reached into his pocket to pull out a pair of handcuffs. Once Sam has sat down, he looked up and scrunched up his face.  
"Really man? Come on," he mumbled. Dean shrugged and Sam turned to the side with a huff, putting his hands behind his back. "Would you believe me if I promised not to do anthing?" Dean shook his head.  
"Not in the slightest." He finished securing the cuffs and closed the passenger door, going around to get in on the driver's side. Looking over at Sam, who borderline looked like a pouty child, Dean smirked. "I may have spared your life, but that doesn't mean I trust you," He said as he started the car and began to drive slowly up the service van passageway behind the mall. Once they reached the top of the unnecessarily long hill, Dean angled the Impala towards the mall and put it in park.  
"What are you doing?" Sam asked with a furrowed brow as Dean began to dig somthing out of his bag. A second later, Dean pulled a small detonation device from the bag and grinned.  
"Executing the second part of my plan." He began to type in a code, and unlocked a small covering that encased a button. Suddenly realizing that Dean had planned to blow up the mall from the start and that there were dozens of police in there by now, Sam tried to lean over and stop him in some way. "Ah, ah, ah," Dean shook his head and pressed a button on his key fob. Sam felt his wrists suddenly become overwhelmed with searing hot pain that was gone seemingly as soon as it had started. He got the message and his jaw clenched tightly through the pain. Dean, with another grin, looked at the mall and laughed. "And then, they were no more," he spoke quietly as he pushed the button; less than that a second later, the mall burst into a ball of searing hot flames, with a heat they could feel even from inside the car. First the initial explosion and then the shockwave rocked the car, and Dean smiled maniacally. "Oh yeah!" He yelled in excitement and Sam looked at him with slight horror, a single tear rolling down his cheek. And yet, that tear was not just for the lives lost; it was also for Dean.

Castiel continued to watch the news' security feed as Dean recieved a short phone call and then motioned for a man to come and stand beside him. A minute later, he winked at the security camera, making Castiel's heart beat just a little bit faster, before shooting everyone still on the floor. He smiled as Dean got off the table and began to walk with the man he had spared, a gun against his back. When they had moved out of the camera shot, the news channel went back to an overhead helicopter view of outside the mall, where a SWAT team was preparing to move in immediate response to the internal gunfire. Slightly dissappointed at the lack of more live footage of Dean, Castiel now only watched with half the amount of interest as he had been watching with before. The SWAT team blew throught the front glass doors and side windows, only to never emerge with Dean or his hostage. After several minutes, more police and a bomb squad entered, and Castiel became impatient, reaching to change the channel. It was only when he looked back at the screen did everything blow; quite literally. The mall went up in a beautiful fireball and Castiel grinned. His eye caught a glint at the corner of the screen and he saw an older, beautiful black Chevy Impala and nodded. He couldn't ever tell you why, but he just knew that it was Dean's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...how you liking it so far? Starting to question my sanity too? Just wait. It gets worse. (Or better, depending on how you wanna look at it.)
> 
> I wanted to add that my view on cops and other law enforcment officers is in no way portrayed in this chapter. Quite contrary to how Dean blows up the officers in the mall with no remorse, I actually have a huge amount of respect for not only the police, but also for firemen, first responders of any kind, and every branch of our military. I just want to make that clear, that the views stated in the chapter are fictional and not my personal views. Thanks.
> 
> Also, just wanted to say that this is not beta read, but if you would like to be my beta reader, hit me up. I need the second pair of eyes. (Just the eyes, though, no body or head attached; jk, I'm joking. (Maybe.))
> 
> Love you all, hope to see you next week.  
> Stay beautiful, lovelies!


	4. Tell The Psychiatrist Something Is Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam sees a side of Dean that breaks his heart; Cas continues to pursue Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, y'all! Don't have a lot to say this time around, so I'll let ya get to it. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own neither Supernatural nor Mad Hatter by Melanie Martinez, the song from which the title of this chapter was derived.
> 
> *WARNING: This chapter containes nightmares in which abuse is construed, so, please be careful and don't mentally (or physically) hurt yourself if that will bother you.*

Dean drove in no particular direction except away from Lawrence, Kansas, and didn't stop until it was dark. Not feeling like taking his chances at a motel, he pulled off the side of the road into a grouping of trees and turned off the car. Looking over at Sam, he saw that the man had fallen asleep. He chuckled, remembering the words the man had told him only an hour or two before when Dean had suggested to him that he sleep.  
_"I am not going to sleep with you anywhere near me. I don't trust you."_ Well, so much for that. Grabbing a blanket from the backseat, he lightly drapped it over Sam before relaxing back into the seat and quickly falling asleep.

 

When Sam woke, it was dark and the car had been turned off. He sat up with a jerk, looking down in confusion as a blanket that hadn't been there when he fell asleep slid off his shoulders and pooled in his lap. Looking out the window to see if he could tell where he was, he was met with the dim outline of trees surrounding the car. He looked over at the driver's side and found his kidnapper sleeping with his head resting on the window. Taking advantage of the man's guard being down, Sam started to slowly and quietly manuever his handcuffed wrists down and under his legs. It took about 10 minutes, but he was much more comfortable when he hand his arms in front once more. Squinting to look at his wrists, he inspected the still smarting red lines from where the cuffs had burned him. It didn't look life threatening however, so he pushed the pain to the side. Looking over at the man once more, Sam made sure he really was asleep before carefully pulling up the passenger door lock and slowly pushing open the door. As he started to stand up he heard a noise from behind him where the man was and froze.  
"No," Dean mumbled and Sam glanced back to make sure he was only talking in his sleep. He was, and Sam relaxed with a sigh, resuming his slide out of the car. "No," Dean mumbled again, this time a little louder, and Sam stopped again; not in fear of being caught leaving, but because he could hear the fear in Dean's voice. "Please, don't." Sam looked back as Dean winced in his sleep, curling in on himself slightly. "Don't hurt him, please." He was starting to get louder and Sam felt a tug on his heart that he tried to ignore. Dean suddenly threw his hands out in front of him and yelled. "No! Don't hurt him! Don't hurt Sammy." Sam tensed at that and his brow furrowed in confusion. "Hurt me," Dean then said in a whisper, a slight whimper to it, and Sam's heart jumped as he took a sharp breath in. "Hurt me." Dean repeated, even quieter, and then there was a pause of silence before he winced so hard even Sam felt as if he could feel his pain, and Dean jerked. He continued to jerk for another few minutes, throwing his hands up in front of his face ever so often, the wince never leaving his expression. Sam felt a wave of compassion and sorrow wash over him when a tear ran down Dean's cheek. After another minute or so the jerking stopped and was replaced by a waterfall of tears as Dean sobbed. Sam closed his eyes and dropped his head, trying to hold back his own tears. He had never seen someone in so much pain before, and it broke his heart. With a deep breath he made a grave decision as he opened his eyes and reached to close the door, lock it, and stay. All he had ever wanted to do was help people in pain, and he knew he would never be able to live with himself knowing he had abandoned this man without trying to help. (And the part of him that loved the crazy look in Dean's eyes also compelled him to stay; only Sam refused to acknowlege that was a reason why.)

Sam didn't go back to sleep after that. Instead, he stayed on the lookout for people who might discover thier spot, and kept an eye on his kidnapper while he slept. The sun began to come up a few hours later and Dean awoke as soon as light began to trickle through the trees and onto his face. He sat up with a sigh, rubbing a hand down his face and looking over at Sam, who was staring out the passenger window. Then his eyes were drawn to Sam's hands.  
"Ah, found a way to be more comfortable I see." Sam looked over at him and Dean immediately tensed a little. He had seen the look that Sam had in his eyes before, and he had never wanted to see it again. But, even then...Dean relaxed as he realized that this look was different. He couldn't tell you why, but he felt more warmth come from Sam's look than any look he'd ever been giving. Dean smiled and turned to start the car, pulling carefully out of the trees and on to the open road. "How long you been up?" He asked Sam, and the man lifted his cuffed hands to run a hand through his semi-long hair.  
"Only about an hour or so. Didn't feel like waking you, so..." He trailed off and shrugged, looking out the window again.  
"Hmm." Was all Dean said in reply as he looked forward once more.

 

Cas woke the next morning with a newfound peace, having just gotten his first good and comfortable night's sleep in months. As he dressed and gathered his things, he turned on the news to see if there was an update on Dean Winchester, but all they had so far was the same stuff from yesterday. With a frown Cas turned off the TV and left, deciding to leave Nurse Fickle's car and just hijack a new one. A few streets down from the motel he found one, and was soon on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. Sometimes to get the scene spacing you want/need, you have to make sacrifices pertaining to chapter length.  
> Anyways, hope you liked the small peak into Dean's troubled mind. Hope it helps give some insight into future happenings that might come to pass. (Does that sentence even make sense??)
> 
> I did, really quick, want to mention that this is not beta'd; but, if you are interested in helping out an SPN family member, hit me up. I would love to have someone give me feedback before I publish a chapter.
> 
> As for now, I will leave you with this: Sometimes, I fight with my demons, and sometimes we hang out and write stories like this one.  
> (That didn't come out as poetic as I was hoping it would; this would be a good time to say, "It sounded better in my head!")
> 
> So long, and see you next week.


	5. I'm Gonna Show You Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries trusting Sam; Cas does what he can to get Dean's attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This chapter is slightly longer than the last one, but I'm afraid still a bit short. Hope you still like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or The CW, nor do I own the lyrics used in the title for this chapter, which are from Bebe Rexha's 'I'm Gonna Show You Crazy'.
> 
> *WARNING: This chapter contains death, blood, and overall disturbing behavior, so read at your own risk.*

Dean and Sam drove in silence, Dean looking over at the man ever so often.  
"Name's Dean, by the way." Sam glanced over at him. "Dean Winchester." Sam smiled a little and looked back out the window.  
"Nice to, uh, meet you- I guess- Dean." Dean nodded and looked around.  
"You hungry, Sam?" Sam shrugged.  
"Kinda, but I'm pretty sure the police have a BOLO out on you now." Dean nodded and started to pull in to an In-and-Out.  
"That's why I'm gonna give you the money so you can buy us food." Sam raised his eyebrows and gave Dean an incredulous look.  
"You're gonna trust me," he pointed at himself, "to go in there," he pointed to the restaurant, "by myself, and actually come back?" Dean nodded as he parked before reaching over and unlocking the cuffs. Sam immediately began rubbing his wrists and Dean sighed.  
"I'm hoping I can." If Dean had done this before last night, Sam wouldn't have cared one bit, but now he knew that Dean probably really wanted him to come back. He sighed and lightly shook his head.  
"What do you want, then?" Dean grinned and handed him $15.  
"Just a burger and fries." Sam nodded and got out of the car. "Oh, and get me some pie," Dean called out the window and Sam gave him a thumbs up. When he entered the restaurant he looked out the windows to see Dean watching him.  
"Ok," He said under his breath as he took a deep breath and walked up to the counter with a smile. The young man behind it, whose name tag read 'Josh', smiled back.  
"Good afternoon, what can I get you today?" Sam briefly thought about saying, "The police," but sighed and glanced out at Dean.  
"Hi, Josh. Can I get two plain cheeseburgers, two large fries, a slice of pie, a root beer, and a-" he paused as he realized he didn't know what Dean wanted to drink. "Actually, just make that two root beers." Josh nodded with a smile as he entered the order.  
"So let me make sure, you want two plain burgers and large fries, two root beers, and a slice of pie, correct?" Sam nodded and briefly glanced out at Dean again. "For here, or to go?"  
"To go."  
"Ok, that'll be $14.58." Sam handed him the $15 bucks and accepted the change a few moments later. "Great, your food should be ready in a few minutes." Sam nodded and moved over to the pick-up side of the counter. Josh went back to relay the order and get the drinks, and Sam watched him carefully. When he had finished getting the drinks he started making his way back, but paused and looked up at the TV on the wall. He glanced at Sam and looked back up, furrowing his brow. Confused, Sam looked up at the TV above the register and paled, gulping. His and Dean's picture were on the news, where the news woman was explaining that Dean had kidnapped him and they might be somewhere in North Dakota. They didn't, however, know what vehicle they were in, and that made Sam relax a little. Josh finally came back over with the drinks and Sam gave him the best smile he could, trying to look as relaxed as possible.  
"Thanks." He took the drinks and started to move away when Josh asked a question.  
"What's your name?" Sam stopped and filed through believable names.  
"Bobby, why?" Josh looked slightly relieved and smiled a little.  
"It's just that you look like..." he trailed off and waved his hand around, searching for an answer, so Sam cut in.  
"Jared Padaleki? I get that a lot, it's ok." Josh stared at him for a moment before smiling.  
"Yeah, you really do." He said before walking to the back to retrieve Sam's food. When he came back out Sam thanked him and left as quickly as he could, making his way to the car with a frown. He slid into the passenger seat and handed Dean his bag, taking his own and placing it on the floor.  
"We should go." He said, holding his arms out towards Dean, wrists together. Dean just looked at him for a second before shaking his head and starting the car. "You're not gonna put the cuffs back on?" Dean glanced at him as they pulled out of the parking lot.  
"You came back, didn't you?" Sam nodded as he slowly dropped his arms, and Dean nodded once. "That proves my trust in you was the right decision." Sam gave him a sad smile and reached down to take out his food.  
"We gonna stop somewhere to eat?" Dean nodded.  
They drove for another 45 minutes before coming to a campsite dotted with a few campers, and Dean pulled over and stopped.  
"You good here?" Sam nodded and they got out. Dean watched the various people by the campers warily as they ate at a table on the outskirts of the camp grounds in silence. Sam finished first and stood to throw his trash away, but froze as Dean pulled out a gun. Sam held up his hands with the trash still in them.  
"Just gonna throw these away." Sam said quietly, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. Dean glanced behind Sam at the trash can a few yards away before putting away his gun. Sam sighed and quickly threw his stuff away and came back. The two continued to stay silent after that until Sam finally picked up the courage to talk to Dean about the events of the night. "Who's Sammy?" Dean tensed for a moment before he eased up and gave him a smirk.  
"I think that's you." Sam couldn't help but smile just a bit at the smart-alec deflection, but wouldn't give up that easily.  
"You had a dream last night and said that name." Dean's smirk vanished and he looked down at his almost finished pie. "Who is he?" Sam asked again and Dean shoved the last bite into his mouth and stood abruptly.  
"Let's go." Sam sighed and stood as Dean threw away his trash and stalked towards the car. As soon as they got in, Dean dropped the cuffs in Sam's lap.  
"What? Why?" Sam asked even as he started to put them on. Dean gave him a glare as he started the Impala and pulled out onto the road.  
"Because, I let you get our food once and you suddenly get bold." Sam started to feel just a little nervous.  
"Look, Dean, I apologize-"  
"Don't. Just don't ever ask me again. In fact, don't talk to me at all." Sam wasn't going to push his luck this time and complied, sitting back and looking out the window, staying silent and trying to ignore the slight rush of excitement he got from Dean's outburst.

They didn't talk again for a week.

……………………………………………………………

It had been just over a week since Cas had escaped and discovered Dean Winchester, and every day he had listened to the news and police reports to try and see if he could find where he was. (He had also seen some reports on himself, telling people to be on the lookout; he ignored them.) He had even driven all the way to Lawrence to see if he could retrace Dean's steps, but after a few more days of nothing Cas decided to take extreme measures. It was a Wednesday at 10:00 at night when he pulled into a Gas N' Sip, looking to make sure that it was relatively empty. Walking inside, he took notice of the middle-aged cashier looking relatively bored behind the counter. Glancing around for people, he grabbed a package of hot cheetoes and a pocket knife when he was satisfied with the lack of witnesses. He only wanted the camera to see. Walking up to the front he gave the cashier a smile and set the cheetoes down.  
"This all?" The guy asked as he picked up the bag. Cas nodded, and while the guy looked down at the register Cas slid his eyes up to the camera in the corner behind the counter and grinned as he took out the knife. "That'll be $3.34-" The guy stopped mid-sentence and froze as he looked up and saw the knife protruding out in front of his face. "Wha-what is this?" He asked nervously, and Cas shrugged.  
"I need to send a message and you happened to be working tonight." The man paled and leaned back just a bit.  
"Please, don't." He tried to step back and Cas reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt in a flash, quickly dragging him over the counter and spinning him around so his back was against Cas' chest and he was facing the camera. Cas pointed up at it with the hand that held the knife.  
"Smile, you're on camera," He said with a small laugh as he brought the knife up and made two upward incisions at the corners of the man's mouth. Screaming, the man struggled and tried to escape Cas' grip. "Ah, ah, ah," Cas 'tsked' before he smoothly slit the man's throat. The cashier gurggled and jerked for a few seconds before going limp and crumpling to the ground at Cas' feet. _Now, for my message._ Cas thought as he looked down at the man, contemplating. He then leaned over and dragged his fingers through the blood on the guy's neck before going to the windows and writing his message on the glass with the thick liquid. He had thought about writing it on the man's chest, but then decided it wouldn't be as dramatic. When he had finished he turned, wiped the handle of the knife clean and placed it on the counter next to the register, and picked up his bag of chips. "$3.34 you said?" He asked the dead man as he took out a wallet and extracted that amount before he placed it on the counter. "I may be crazy, but I'm not uncivilized," he said before giving the camera one more grin and walking out, cheetos in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Don't have much of anything to say this time around, so I'll just bid you adieu. Hope to see you next week! Stay beautiful, my darlings.


	6. You Don't Know The Half Of The Abuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam learns about Dean's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry! I told you I was forgetful, and with my summer alrrady being pretty busy, updating this story completely slipped my mind. Forgive me and enjoy?
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the song which contributed to this chapter's title: Heathens by Twenty Øne Piløts.
> 
> *WARNING: This chapter contains mentions and descriptions of abuse, as well as being somewhat gory.*

After a week of driving aimlessly, sleeping in the car, and carefully sneaking food out of restraunts, Dean decided to try a motel on the outskirts of Pocatello, Idaho. He hadn't allowed Sam out of the cuffs or his sight at all during that time and they hadn't spoken a word to eachother since the campgrounds, save for the occasional command Dean gave Sam. Even when Dean managed to rent a room for the two of them without being recognized, all he did was point Sam towards one of the beds before locking himself in the bathroom to take a shower. Having nothing to do, Sam laid back on the bed with his still cuffed hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Dean emerged from the bathroom 20 minutes later and walked over to stare down at Sam.  
"I'm gonna go get us food." Sam just nodded and watched as Dean walked out of the room. He came back 45 minutes later to find his captive in the same position as when he had left, and with a sigh Dean dropped one of the bags of food down beside him on the bed. Sam sat up and they ate in silence.  
Sam finished first (as usual) and stood to throw away his trash, coming back to lay down in a similar position to the one he was in when Dean got back- hands behind head and legs crossed, his feet just barely hanging off the edge. Dean glanced down at Sam's feet as he swallowed his bite. "Dude, you are unaturally tall." Sam looked over at Dean, surprised that his kidnapper was saying somthing to him other than basic information. (Though, in all honesty, it was a pretty basic and obvious statement.) He didn't respond other than to shrug, not really sure what to say back, or if Dean even wanted him to speak. They were silent for another few minutes while Dean finished, and when he had thrown his trash away he spoke up again. "Why didn't you leave?" Sam looked at him with a confused expression and Dean sat down on the opposite bed, facing Sam. "That first night after the mall. Why didn't you leave when you had the chance?" Sam sat up and turned to face Dean, shrugging. Dean sighed and looked down. "I mean, I saw that you had managed to get your hands in front of you even in the cuffs, so I know you would have had no trouble unlocking the door and bolting." He looked back up at Sam. "You could have escaped then, and you could have escaped just now when I left you here to get food, but you didn't; why?" Sam could see the genuine confusion in Dean's eyes and got the feeling that the man was used to people in his life just up and leaving. He looked away from Dean's searching gaze after a moment and fiddled with the cuffs.  
"I almost did. I had one foot out the door, ready to fly, when you had your," he looked up at Dean to make sure he didn't step too far over the line, "dream," he finished, watching as Dean looked away. "I couldn't just leave you there like that, crying and so obviously hurting." Dean's jaw lightly clenched and Sam leaned back a bit, but didn't stop talking. "I wanted to help you. So, I decided not to leave." He paused for a second, watching Dean's reaction. "I wanted to stay." He put emphasis on 'wanted', and he proved his hypothesis of Dean having troubled life experiences when the man's eyes widened in surprise. "That's why." He added, easing back a bit to let Dean have some space just in case it upset him. Dean looked up at him and nodded, Sam feeling as if he could almost physically see him mulling the information over in his head. Silence settled back in between them for a while before Dean eventually broke it again.  
"He was my brother." At Sam's confused look, Dean lightly huffed and looked down. "Sammy," He clarified and Sam nodded.  
"Was?" He asked gently and Dean nodded, looking up at him with a pained smile.  
"He was taken away by some relatives when he was five for safety reasons." He looked at the bed table to his left. "My dad would beat us. When my mom was murdered by an intruder in Sam's room when he was 6 months old, it tore my dad apart." He glanced at Sam, the pain still written on his face. "He always blamed Sam. Always said that if he hadn't been crying that night, our mom wouldn't have gotten out of bed and been killed." He laughed wryly. "Even said once or twice Sam should've been the one to die." Sam felt his heart clench in sadness for Dean. "The last time I ever saw Sammy was the night of his 5th birthday. My dad was actually sober that day and had bought him a cake and ice cream, and had let me buy him a gift." Dean smiled at the memory. "He was a really clumsy kid, always tripping over himself, so I started calling him 'moose' when he was three and I used all my money to get him a dog tag made with his nickname on it that year." Sam's eyes widened and his fingers went to the chain around his neck. "My dad left that evening for a few hours while we played. It's one of the best memories I have of Sammy." Dean's smile faded and his eyes darkened. "It's also one of the worst." Looking up at Sam, he ran a hand through his hair. "My dad came home that night more drunk than I had ever seen him and more than just angry like he had been in times past; this time he was livid, and it was terrifying. He started going off on Sammy about how he didn't deserve to have lived that long and had no right to be alive when our mother was in the ground because of him. I was trying to calm him down and protect Sam when he picked up a vase. I screamed at him to leave Sammy alone, to not hurt him." Sam could see the tears glistening in Dean's eyes. "I told him-" He paused a took a deep, shaky breath. "I told him to hurt me instead. I told him that the reason Sam had been crying that night was because of me, because I had woken him up by accident." Dean's head dropped. "He didn't even speak. The silence was unbearable as he stared at me with first surprise and then white hot anger." Dean was silent for a few moments before he reached down and lifted his shirt to reveal about 30 small scars across his chest and stomach and three long, ugly looking gash marks from his right shoulder down across to around his left hip. Sam's air was knocked out of him and he felt sick; he had to close his eyes, wincing. "That's when I got these." Dean continued. "He threw the vase at me and it shattered, along with cracking four ribs and bruising my sternum. He came at me with his nails, tearing apart my shirt and throwing the shards of glass at me as hard as he could." Sam reopened his eyes and Dean motioned to a small, barely noticable scar coming out from his left eye. "A piece got in my eye and messed up my eyelid pretty badly. It was a miracle I could still even see." He looked back at his chest and ran three fingers over the long scars. "The last thing he did was grab what was left of the base of the vase and stabbed my shoulder, dragging the broken glass across my body." Dean winced at the memory. "To this day, I have never felt worse physical pain." Sam didn't doubt it for a second, and his stomach twisted when Dean dropped his shirt back over the scars. "When he had finished with that I was barely coherent, the pain was so intense, but I forced myself to stay awake to protect Sam. Dad had left the room for a moment and Sam tried to help me, his face practically soaked with tears. When my dad came back in, he had his hand gun with him, and he started yelling about killing both of us because we had caused him enough pain and he was done taking care of kids that had killed thier mother and the love of his life. I knew there was nothing I could do then, so I tried my best to just calm Sam down, hoping that if maybe we were quiet and calm enough he wouldn't do it." Dean's face suddenly became void of all emotion and Sam felt a wave of uneasiness wash over him. "But then, without warning, he put the gun under his own chin and pulled the trigger." The uneasiness quickly turned to bile as he had to keep from throwing up. "Sam was devestated. He crawled over to our dad and tried to put the blood and brains back in him, crying so hard he was screaming. A neighbor who had heard the yelling and gunshot called the police. Before they got there though, I managed to push the pain aside for long enough to get up and pull Sammy away, dragging him into the adjoining kitchen. I tried to calm him down and then told him I was gonna help him go back to sleep because he was onlg dreaming. Being the inoccent child he was, he believed me, trusting me completely when I told him I had to hit him really hard to put him pack to sleep. I will never forget the look on his face when I swung that bat and knocked him out cold." The emotions were back on Dean's face as a tear rolled down his cheek. "My plan worked, though. I found out a week later that Sammy had suffered major memory loss from the blow I delivered to his head and that unless he was forced to, he would never remember the events of that night or anything of value from the first five years of his life." Dean wiped the tears away and stood, walking over to the table that held his bag. "I spent the next 8 years in and out of boy's houses and foster homes all over the country. The only one that kept me in Lawrence was one that I was sent to for three months after I turned 15, supossedly for anger management. I hadn't been back in a while, but I knew Sam was still there because he had been adopted by our Aunt after the incident." Dean laughed wryly. "They wanted to take me, too, but the police said I was a liability to Sam and couldn't be kept around him. That's why I was put into the system." Dean sighed. "Anyways, when I was back for the anger management place, my Aunt and Uncle offered me a temporary job at thier car shop. I accepted, and they told me they only had one condition: that I never had any interaction with Sam. I agreed, albeit reluctantly, and spent a lot of my time there before I barely passed the anger management course and they shipped me off to another foster family." He was silent for a moment before continuing. "No one ever wanted to keep me because I was too much trouble, or too much work, or had issues with authority, or had a bad attitude or temper, or 'insert character flaw here'." He pulled out a small cooler and took out two beers, bringing one over to Sam and opening the other for himself. "The last two years I was in a home, in South Dakota, the family treated me better than anyone ever had, allowing me to play lacrosse at the school they had put me in and letting me hang out with friends as long as I wanted. Then when I graduated high school, they even threw me a party, and I finally started to feel like I had a family again." He laughed wryly again, taking a swig of the beer. "But then I turned 18 and they kicked me out of the house. Said that because I was too old for them to recieve child benefits, they didn't need or want me anymore. I think that's probably when I finally gave up on people." Sam felt his heart twinge as Dean sighed, looking up at the other man. "I killed them, you know." Sam's eyes widened, and he met Dean's stare with alarm. "Couldn't handle the rejection after so many years, so I rented a motel room three hours outside of the town they were in and spent two weeks planning it. Went back in the middle of night and avoided all the cameras around the motel, along the roads, and at thier house. Slit both thier throats while they were sleeping, then cleaned up a bit. I wasn't all that worried about finger prints outside thier room, because I had just been living there. Went back to the motel leaving no trace that I was ever there after the time I had left the house three weeks before. Of course, even then, three days later when the police found thier bodies I was the main suspect. I let the police take me in and question me, crying when needed to and playing the part of an unsuspecting adult who had simply gone on a small vacation and ended up being spared from the slaughter of the only true family he had ever known. It was the perfect murder, and I was released a week later." Dean took another drink from the bottle, finally looking away from Sam's wide, shocked eyes. "After that, I became a major drinker, I slept around. Found my way  back to Lawrence but dutifully kept myself away from where I knew Sam was. Never even told my Aunt and Uncle I was back. After a while, I realized I was turning into my father; so I stopped drinking so much and got a job working for Bobby Singer. But that didn't stop people from treating me like scum. The worst was when I would go to the mall. People would push me around all the time, especially those who remembered me and what I had done, and I just couldn't stand it any more." Sam looked at Dean with a look of compassion.  
"So you killed them." Dean looked up at him and nodded.  
"The world needs to be rid of all the people like that. They don't deserve to be kept alive." Dean leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and look down at the floor with an expression of hatred. "People like my father don't deserve to live." Sam shook his head and sighed.  
"I don't believe that's true." Dean's eyes shot up to look at him and Sam sighed again in defeat. "But, in my current situation, there's nothing I can do to stop you. I can only try and change your mind." Dean looked at him with a strange and unreadable expression for several seconds before smiling slightly.  
"Ok. Then how about we start showing a little trust in eachother?" Dean reached into his left pocket and held up a key. "I'll start." He reached forward and unlocked the cuffs from around Sam's sore wrists, faint red lines still showing where he had been burned by them. Dean took the key and cuffs and threw them into his bag with a sigh. Sam looked at the bag for a few seconds before nodding his head.  
"Yeah. Okay." He gave Dean a small smile and the man returned it with a grin, his eyes a bit red and puffy.  
"Sorry about that, by the way." He said as he turned and got comfortable on his own bed, gesturing to the burn lines on Sam's delicate skin. "Thermal cuffs." He added with a shrug and Sam shook his head.  
"Yeah." Was all he said, not sure how to respond. He sat up and moved to get comfortable as Dean reached for the TV remote. Sam watched Dean until he was sure the man wasn't paying close attention before he reached up to his neck. His fingers grazed up the back until he reached the base of his skull and he felt it; a scar. A scar that his mom had said he had gotten when he was 5 after accidently getting hit by his brother with a baseball bat. Sam had simply assumed she was talking about his older brother Ash. Looking back over at Dean, Sam swallowed hard. He was beginning to believe that his mom had been closer to the truth than he realized.

As Dean reached to turn on the TV he noticed Sam watching him carefully as he tried to conspicuously touch the back of his neck. Dean tried to look like he wasn't paying attention, but he saw Sam run a finger over a bump on the back of his neck, his face going a bit pale. He looked over at Dean and swallowed hard, looking 1/2 scared and another 1/2 angry. "The news ok?" Dean decided to ask, looking over at Sam as the man slightly jumped.  
"I, uh, sure." His face scrunched in partial confusion as he settled back into the pillows."Why?" Dean shrugged and looked forward as he flipped through the channels.  
"I like to keep up with the world." Sam watched Dean with an unreadable expression, almost as if he was assessing him.  
"You like to hear about the evil people in the world to fuel your anger and cover up the other feelings that you don't want to express." Dean looked over at Sam with his eyebrows raised.  
"Wow, when did you get so deep and understanding, Mr. Therapist?" Sam narrowed his eyes and Dean snorted as he looked back at the screen. "Besides, I said we could start trusting eachother. Not jump all the way to level 'bestfriends who share everything'." With a sigh Sam shook his head.  
"You're right. Sorry." Dean shrugged, suddenly losing interest as he found a news station that had his name in the headline.  
"Oh look, it's me!" He said as if he were an excited toddler and Sam looked at the screen, the volume slowly coming up as a female voice was speaking.  
_"...Dean Winchester when he blew up a mall over one week ago. Police have been on the lookout for him ever since. But, at the same time, they were looking into what they thought was an unrelated case._  
_The infamous Jimmy 'Castiel' Novak, who's trial three years ago was broadcast across the nation, escaped solitary confinment inside the Napa Country maximum psychiatric ward in California the same day of the explosion, and has been missing ever since- until now. He finally showed up on police radar after murdering a man at a Gas N' Sip last night. At first, the police assumed it was a robbery gone wrong, but after checking the security tapes, they realized it was much worse than that."_ They switched to a view of the Gas N' Sip security tape and played it almost all the way through, blurring the graphic parts and running it up until the point Castiel walked out of the store. _"The police do believe that although the location and victim seem completely choosen at random, the message left smeared onto the window was not, and makes them believe that these two cases are not as unrelated as they seem."_  They brought up a view of a picture taken by a newscrew, which showed the window from outside the store. Because it had been up there quite some time, the blood had run down the window and the words were nearly indecipherable, but a moment later they put up a frozen frame of the window from the security camera. Written on the glass was a note that read: 'For Dean Winchester- Find Me, or I'll Find You'. _"Police believe that the message means that the victim was killed for Dean Winchester, and that Jimmy Novak is what we would call a 'fan'; and, if that is the case, then this would be the only known instance in which a mass murderer aquired a fan so quickly after commiting a crime."_ They brought up a picture of the man who was killed and started to talk about him and his family, how his 4-year-old daughter now had to grow up without a father and how his wife was now without her stronghold and support.

Sam was horrified;

Dean was grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked that insight in to why Dean is so messed up. We'll get to see Sammy's messed up origins in a few chapters as well, so please stay tuned. Until next time!


	7. Me, Myself, and I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a little bit of a glimpse into Dean's mind and Sam's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I think I'm just gonna move to updating every other week. That's a lot easier for me. Hope you like this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN or the chapter title.
> 
> *WARNING*: There may or may not be triggering stuff in here, but I guess you'll find out.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was a few hours more of watching the news and Dean looking up everything he could on this Jimmy Novak, who preffered to go by Castiel despite it not being his given name in any way, before the lights were turned off and the two fell into a peacful sleep. At least, that's what they wanted the other to believe. In reality both were kept wide awake by thier personal demons, ones which they tried very hard to keep in check so as to not let the other know that everything was not ok; not ok at all.  
Despite Dean having been quite...excited at seeing the man, Castiel, do somthing like that just to get his attention, it was also just something to cover up the emotions and pain he had uncovered in his moment of what some would call weakness in front of Sam. Normally, Dean would never have dreamed of telling anyone about why he was so messed up, but after seeing the look in Sam's eyes that first morning after the mall and hearing him say that he wanted to stay with Dean, he almost felt like he _had_  to tell the man. It did occur to Dean that he had sworn to never pick at the scab that had formed on those memories ever again, but after hearing Sam's name and seeing the small ways in which he acted and looked almost like an older version of his Sammy, he had reached a subconcious finger into his memories and not only picked at the scab, but started to reopen the wound as well. And now that he was in complete silence save for the slightly uneven breathing of his kidnapee and the soft sound of the breeze whispering around the building, the dam he had worked so hard to build up over the years cracked and his unwanted thoughts came trickling through.  
 _Why did you tell him? You shouldn't have told him._  
 _What if he decides you're not worth it anymore and leaves, just like everyone else who's ever 'loved' you?_  
 _What if he's only being kind so that he can shoot you in the back while your head's turned, and your guard's down?_  
 _What if..._  
 _What if..._  
 _What if..._  
 ** _WHAT IF!_**  
Dean gripped the sides of his head and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep the tears that were fighting to slip past his eyelids inside. It didn't work. They flowed silently down his cheeks and mixed with the cotten fibers of his definitely not clean pillow case that smelled nothing like home and everything like betrayal. And no one could ever tell him that betrayal didn't have a smell. He had experienced it too many times to believe those lies. He could tell you what it looked like, felt like, smelled like, tasted like.   
It looked like the rage and disgust in the eyes of his mentally absent father and every foster parent he had ever had when they decided they didn't want him anymore; it felt like the salty tears that had coated his cheeks every time he took the fall for Sammy's inoccent accidents and was beat into unconciousness; it smelled like the beer and whiskey in the hot breath of his father every day for 5 years; it tasted like the blood that ran down his throat every time he was beaten to the point of near death.  
Not only had Dean picked at the scab, but he had started to reopen the wound, too; and now it had begun to bleed.

Sam was thinking hard about the last few hours. He didn't want to admit it- not to hinself and especially not to Dean- but he had been extremely turned on by Jimmy 'Catiel' Novak's actions. He had tried to ignore his...dark wants and tendancies all his life, but with everything happening with Dean, those thoughts that had been previously locked away were let out. With a hard swallow, Sam did his best to ignore his deepest desires and instead turned his mind to the revelation he had while Dean was telling his story.  
Sam had his back turned to Dean and had been waiting to hear the sound of even breathing ever since the lights went out. It never came, but knowing it was dark, Sam didn't think it would startle Dean if he moved around a bit. Glancing back slightly at his kidnapper, whose own back was turned to Sam, he reached up and removed the chain from around his neck that held three dog tags. The first he looked at had the name 'Ash Harvelle', one name stamped on either side; his older brother. The second had the name 'Joanna Harvelle' stamped in the same fashion; his younger sister. The last he picked up slowly, running his finger along the stamped words on either side before reading them. In truth, he didn't need to read it, because he already knew what it said by heart.  
'Sammy' on one side; 'Moose' on the other.  
With another hard swallow he put the chain back around his neck and his fingers grazed the scar at the base of his skull again. Memories of what his mother had told him all those years ago came flooding back, making goosbumps appear on his skin.

  
_18-year-old Ash pulled his big truck into the driveway of thier home and turned it off with a sigh._   
_"Who's ready for milk and cookies!" He said as excitedly as he could, and 11-year-old Sam pumped his fist in the air while 8-year-old Jo giggled. "Well, alrighty then, go get 'em." The two jumped out of the back with loud whoops, running as fast as they could up to the door and almost kicking it down. Ash chuckled and climbed out of the front, closing the forgotten back doors and pulling the army green and pink camo backpacks from the bed of the truck. He slung them over each shoulder and hit the button to lock the truck. It's lights flashed and it beeped as he walked around to head inside, passing a sad, worn-out looking 15-year-old boy cleaning various vintage car parts that were laid out on the car shop work table in the open garage. "Hey, Dean," Ash said quietly, briefly stopping to watch the tired boy scrub almost mechanically at a particularly rusted piece of engine. Dean paused and lifted only his eyes to look at Ash, both orbs void of emotion and akin to looking dead._   
_"Don't forget your foster family expects you home by 6:30. Wouldn't want anything to happen with Sam, now would we?" Ash didn't mean the last part to sound so condecending, but he flinched slightly when it did anyway. He wasn't even referring to the reason Sam wasn't allowed to know Dean was his brother; but because Dean wasn't supposed to have any interaction with his younger brother, and it was a temptation for him to still be here when Sam was around._   
_When Dean didn't respond, Ash nodded and continued his walk up to the front door, trying not to think about the fact that he knew Dean's lifeless eyes were following him every step of the way like a robot or that as soon as the front door closed behind him he knew Dean would go back to scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing that engine piece._   
_Upon walking into the kitchen, Ash dumped the backpacks by thier respective owners and smiled sadly at the two kids digging into the fresh, home-made chocolate chip cookies and whole milk. When he looked up at his mom, Ellen, she gave him a look that told him she knew what the sad smile meant. He nodded in conformation and she sighed, quickly shaking her head and putting a smile back on as she turned and continued to make the lasagna she had been preparing for dinner. "I'm headed upstairs to do some work, but I'll be back down for our daily lacrosse practice later, ok buddy?" Ash asked Sam as he ruffled his little brother's hair._   
_"Ok, yeah. Hey! Stop doing that, you know it tickles!" With a laugh Ash stopped and turned to walk away. Sam reached a hand up and scratched at where Ash had messed with his head. When he fingers grazed the scar on the back of his neck he stopped for a minute and thought._   
_"Mom, where did I get my scar?" Ash and Ellen froze and looked at him._   
_"Well, honey, you got it from your older brother," Ellen told him cautiously. Sam's eyes widened and he looked around at Ash._   
_"Ash did it?" Ellen didn't confirm._   
_"He hit you with a bat when you were five." Ash locked eyes with thier mom and nodded._   
_"Yeah. By accident." Ellen's face scrunched up in sadness, knowing that Ash was doing his best to defend Dean's actions. Sam frowned and turned back to his cookies and milk. Life slowly began to move again, no one saying anything else._   
_Ellen and Ash knew that she had told him the truth; just not that Ash wasn't the brother she was talking about. Jo wasn't old enough to remember Dean, so she didn't know either._

_They would probably never tell her._

  
Sam brought his fingers away from the scar and sighed. He knew his mom hadn't lied to him. She had only kept from him all of the truth. After a minute Sam noticed that Dean's breathing was short and choppy and that every few seconds he would sniff; he quickly realized that his kidnapper was crying. He sat up quietly and looked over at Dean, opening his mouth to ask what was wrong. But the words never left his tongue. He instead closed his mouth and lay back down before a sound could escape his lips. He had almost forgotten that Dean was still dangerous; but not quite. He was sick, lost, and hurting. Sam could help Dean find his way, and he had stayed for that reason, but he didn't know how to cure Dean's illness or take away his pain. So until he knew how to do those things, he would only sit back and be a guiding light, no matter how much seeing Dean's suffering hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. See you next time, I guess?  
> Stay alive, and have a wonderful week.


End file.
